


The Rumors are True

by chaos_ineffable



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Based on a Tumblr Post, Crack, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, this is so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-16 12:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaos_ineffable/pseuds/chaos_ineffable
Summary: Gabriel’s glower sizzles over the meeting room. He eyes the occupant of each chair with a scowl, eyeing the demons with extra intensity, sizing them up before glaring at the final seat, which remains empty despite his patient postponing.“Where the fuck is he?”





	The Rumors are True

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vgersix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vgersix/gifts).

> This was so much fun to write. I needed a break from the angst and I saw a post on tumblr by vgersix the other day and I got inspired. It's unedited so there will probably be some mistakes, sorry about that.
> 
> Enjoy!

Gabriel’s glower sizzles over the meeting room. He eyes the occupant of each chair with a scowl, eyeing the demons with extra intensity, sizing them up before glaring at the final seat, which remains empty despite his patient postponing.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“Where is the fuck is who, sir?” Michael asks, her voice lined with a patience everybody in the room knows is fake. She has not looked up from her tablet since she sat down.

“Aziraphale! Who else? He’s the only one who isn’t here yet!”

The demon Crowley rolls his eyes. He is seated beside the empty chair, his lithe form sprawled over his own seat and leaking slightly into Aziraphale’s. He does not look pleased to be there. Gabriel, for once, agrees with him. “Just start without him. He won’t mind, trust me.”

Gabriel clenches his teeth and rubs his temples. “I cannot just start without him. Everyone needs to be here for these…” he has to suck in a breath or he’s pretty sure the next word will make him discorporate out of sheer disgust, “negotiations.”

“They can hardly be called negotiations otherwise,” Sandalphon chips in.

Gabriel grits out his agreement. “We are going to continue waiting until Aziraphale gets here.”

Everyone ignores Crowley as he groans dramatically and slithers out of his chair to pool on the floor in a very stylish puddle.

“Y’know, that angel could be working on his muscle tone,” Dagon supplies, inspecting their nails with such disinterest they are obviously interested.

“Muscle tone?” Uriel scoffs. “What muscle tone?”

Dagon grins, flashing their shark teeth and slamming their hands on the table. “I heard that Aziraphale is absolutely shredded. He’s got an eight pack and everything!”

Beelzebub, who had previously been coercing flies to lay eggs in Gabriel’s coif, looks over in interest. “What? There’s no way! Who told you that?”

Crowley peeks over the edge of the table.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Gabriel rubs his temples again. He knew it would be a bad idea to do this with demons. He just knew it. “Aziraphale is what the humans would call a creampuff. If you want to see some real muscle,” he lets himself enjoy a small amount of hubris as he carefully removes his jacket, folding it on the table, before rolling his shirt sleeve up to his shoulder, “look no further than-”

He barely flexes his bicep when one of the monstrous windows shatters and something slams into him from behind. He faceplants into the table before falling to the floor, a puddle of obliterated mortification.

Aziraphale stands where he once stood. He’s only wearing a white shirt and a pair of tan slacks with suspenders stretching over his powerful shoulders. His usual tartan bowtie hangs loosely around his neck. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled to his elbows, showing off his strong forearms. “Everything you have heard is true!” He cries, flexing his magnificent biceps. His shirt bulges and threatens to tear. “I am a creampuff but hidden beneath the layer of puff is a foundation of cream_tuff!_”

Crowley, having slithered from under the table to Aziraphale’s feet, lifts onto his haunches and slaps his hands together, as if he’s praying. He grins at the flabbergasted audience. “Aziraphale is a secret agent of BAMFness!” He pauses and turns to look thoughtfully at Aziraphale’s round belly, his eyes wandering up to the angel’s face, before his features lights up and he whips back around. “No, he’s _my_ secret agent of BAMFness!”

Aziraphale blinks down at him, a blush spreading across his cheeks. “Oh, my dear!” He exclaims, running a hand through Crowley’s hair before cupping his cheek. “You are so good to me, darling. How about we return to the bookshop and I can return the favor?”

His voice drops a few octaves on the last words and Beelzebub and Dagon gag upon realizing what he really means. Uriel and Sandalphon look on in oblivious confusion. Michael taps away at her tablet.

He has hardly finished talking when Crowley nods enthusiastically. He bends down and swoops the demon into his arms, pressing a quick kiss to Crowley’s lips before raising his two middle fingers at everyone in the room, but especially at Gabriel’s prone form.

Then he grips Crowley close and backflips perfectly through an intact window.

The room’s remaining occupants look on in wonder.

“I told you Crowley could do it.” Dagon mutters to the Lord of Hell, “Now, pay up.”

Beelzebub grumbles but slides twenty quid across the table. “I never thought I would get to see the Guardian of Eden absolutely sloshed. We should bet with Crowley more often.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out on tumblr!   
[chaos-ineffable](https://chaos-ineffable.tumblr.com/)


End file.
